


your heaven and your oceans, too

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Historical Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It usually starts the same for everyone: an uncertain glance, a hint of familiarity, a hesitant step forward and finally an overwhelming sensation of recognition as their souls connect. People have met their soulmates at both very young and very old ages, people have met their soulmates in their prime or when they’re married to someone else or even when they’re nearing their own death. The only rules of soulmates are that everyone has one and everyone meets theirs at some point in their lifetime.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Louis is Emperor and Zayn is his soul mate. That simple, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heaven and your oceans, too

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of my Abelwick!verse, but I've taken it down for reasons. I love this part and feel that it can stand on its own, so I'm posting it. I can see myself playing more in this 'verse, but it isn't a WIP, so no worries there.
> 
> Title from Adele.

“Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.  
They're in each other all along.”  
**Rumi**

 

There’s something about the feeling one gets when they meet their soulmate. It’s unlike any other feeling they’ve known up until that point; it is so similar to the sensation of being high that it isn’t completely uncommon for people to turn to opiates later in life, trying to reach that same floating sensation.

It usually starts the same for everyone: an uncertain glance, a hint of familiarity, a hesitant step forward and finally an overwhelming sensation of recognition as their souls connect. People have met their soulmates at both very young and very old ages, people have met their soulmates in their prime or when they’re married to someone else or even when they’re nearing their own death. The only rules of soulmates are that everyone has one and everyone meets theirs at some point in their lifetime.

So when the emperor is looking for his third spouse and has yet to meet his one soulmate, it comes as no surprise that every eligible single person in Irzjarri makes their way to the palace for their chance to be recognised by the emperor’s soul as its missing mate.

Louis is weary already, completely uninterested in parading a line of hopeful citizens past him, knowing that he’ll be disappointing all of them except perhaps one. When his father had been alive and had arranged his first two marriages, Louis had been an infant and then a preteen, and hadn’t had the authority to say ‘no’. It’s shocking and bitterly disappointing that, even as the ruler of a nation, he still has no power to stop the impending ceremony.

His mother sighs at him when he shares his opinion, busy with two smelly infants in her arms until Louis leans forward and takes his younger brother from her. Ernest smiles at him and giggles, always pleased to see Louis, and Louis’ heart pangs for a child of his own. He’s come to love his two spouses but he doesn’t desire them in the way he knows he should. Until the day that changes- one that his mum assures him will come before he knows- he’s resigned himself to steal his younger siblings as often as he can.

His stepfather tells him an emperor should be more concerned with policy than changing nappies but Louis just sticks his tongue out at him and continues to fix Ernie up, declaring him clean and ready to conquer the world.

“You’re going to be the ruler this nation needs,” Louis says with a smirk, hefting Ernest into the air over his head.

“Stop being dramatic,” his mother says with a private little grin. “You’re going to be fine. You’ll find your soulmate and have a brood of your own to train up. No more of my sons are sitting on this throne.”

Louis smiles and tilts his head in acknowledgment, declaring in a loud voice, “I have super important emperor business to attend to and I require the presence of my heir presumptive.” He makes to sweep from the room, his robes billowing behind him the way his father always could, but his are still on the side of just too long for him and he nearly trips but recovers in enough time that he doesn’t think anyone notices. He takes the hint to be less dramatic and exits with his head high, Ernie waving his hand over Louis’ shoulder at Jay and Dan.

~*~

The next morning is absolute torture, his servants dragging him out of bed and cleaning, waxing and buffing him within an inch of his life.

“Sorry, Majesty,” his head valet says after a particularly stubborn strip of hair on his belly is ripped out.

“Not sure what I did to deserve this hatred, Liam.”

“It’s on your mother’s orders, Majesty.”

“I do outrank her,” Louis reminds with a pout as Niall, Liam’s soulmate, soothes the red skin with salve. “I don’t know if you lot have forgotten that. I’m the emperor; she’s my beloved mother but she doesn’t actually dictate things.”

“She’s your mum, Lou,” Niall says with a laugh, always a bit too informal with Louis. It makes Louis smile and want to keep him around even more, not used to being treated like a regular lad. He’d inherited the throne at a young age and had therefore missed playing around with his peers. Niall always treats him like he’s normal, though.

“Yeah, I suppose. How much longer is this going to take?”

“One left, Majesty.”

He hisses through his gritted teeth as Liam yanks off one last strip of paper, the fine hairs on his chest coming up with it. “Not sure why I’m supposed to be groomed anyway. Is their soul going to decline mine if I’ve a bit of chest hair?”

Liam laughs and Niall steps back after soothing the waxed skin, washing his hands in a basin and handing Louis a damp towel to wipe himself off with.

“I think you look wonderful, Majesty,” Liam says with a wink, endearingly closing both eyes for a second. Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell him of his little quirk, enjoys too much the fond look he gets to exchange with Niall every time it happens.

“Your blue shirt today, Emperor?” Niall asks as he disappears into the open wardrobe to their right. He comes back out when Louis agrees, knowing his mother likes the way it brings out the colours in his eyes.

It is a heavy piece of clothing, the silk beaded and sewn with sapphires and diamonds so it glitters in the light. He lets Niall help him dress, keeping on his white linen trousers to offset the rich colour of the shirt. He pouts as Liam insists he wears shoes, shoving his feet into his summer slippers and smacking their hands away as they reach out at the same time to fiddle with his outfit.

“I can handle it now, thank you,” he says, biting his lips as they both agree and walk out, fingers tangling loosely together in an unconscious display of their bond. Louis feels jealousy spike through his body; he wants to meet his soulmate so desperately it consumes him from the inside in rare moments like these, when the soul bonds of others are on display.

He looks at his reflection in the large mirror hanging on the wall near the closet. He straightens his shirt over his shoulders and pulls at his necklaces so the chains rest on top of the fabric. His hair has been artfully styled by Harry, his first spouse and the head of his household in name only, as Jay has continued to take control of the staff the way she had for Louis’ father during their brief marriage before he had passed.

Harry comes in after a moment, closely followed by Louis’ second spouse, Eleanor. They smile at him and approach when they see he’s alone, coming up on either side of him and looking at his reflection.

“You look wonderful,” Eleanor says, squeezing his arm gently. He meets her eyes through the mirror and feels the same wave of sadness that she and Harry usually inspire in him. He wishes he could feel for them what he is supposed to. Emperors before him have been able to feel sexual or romantic desire for their spouses outside of their soul bond, but having practically grown up with Harry and Eleanor has put them both in a sibling-like place in his heart.

“Good luck today,” Harry says from his other side, and Louis rests his cheek on Eleanor’s hair, looking up at Harry with a smirk.

“You’re not coming to watch, Hazza? What if you meet your soulmate?”

Harry just shakes his head. “Today is about yours. I’ll meet mine another time.”

Though Harry hasn’t found his soulmate, Eleanor’s is one of her maidens. only Louis taking her mate as another of his spouses will allow them to spend their lives together, as the Imperial Spouses aren’t traditionally allowed to seek out their own soulmates. Louis hates the thought of either of them being without their other half and He wants to tell them that, even if he doesn’t meet his soulmate today, he’s going to find a way to release them from the marriage. They deserve to be happy with their soul bonds without going through Louis to do so.

They both fuss over him a bit longer, Eleanor straightening the chains around his neck as Harry fluffs up his fringe. He allows them their concern where he had rebuked Liam and Niall’s, because he can see the stress they’re holding in their shoulders and he knows they both have mothering tendencies.

He walks out with them before his mum can come and collect him, leaving his spouses at the door to their suite with a kiss for luck from each of them. He heads down the main staircase to the ground floor, eyes on the blue sky and bright sunshine visible through the open-air gallery. At least it will be a nice day to be disappointed when he- still- does not meet his soulmate.

~*~

The Welcoming of the Citizens- or, the ‘Tribute Parade’ as Louis has been silently naming it in his head- is exactly as dull and boring and heartbreakingly sad as Louis had thought it was going to be. Every time he doesn’t form a soul connection with the individual in front of him, he has to see the small sliver of hope fade from their eyes. Most handle it just fine, of course; they’ll smile and bow, say ‘hello’ and ‘good day’ and move on without a fuss. Some frown a bit but otherwise hide their disappointment.

A few- a very, very small number of people- are genuinely upset, and Louis is always quick to stand and take their hands, press a kiss to their fingers gently and look back up to them with his most charming smile. He’ll whisper to them that he isn’t much of a catch anyway, that he’s dramatic and loud according to his mother and a bit selfish to boot. He’ll speak with them in a low tone until they seem to be feeling better, and he’ll hand them off to Paul with a concerned gaze, knowing his head of security will get them settled with a drink and a plate of food at the ball that everyone who has come is invited to attend.

The ball is theoretically held for Louis and his soulmate to have a public platform for their first meeting; it tends to strengthen the confidence in the bond when they can put on such a public display right away. It, however, serves a second and more important purpose of allowing those not picked to potentially meet their true soulmate. The women and men that seem hardest hit by the lack of a bond are often given places of honor around the dining area, in order to give them the highest chance of making a connection with their mate. Louis has just handed off one such woman, her eyes still a bit damp but her lips upturned at the corners, when he starts to feel a sort of itch on his palm.

Distractedly scratching at it with the nails of his other hand, he settles back onto his seat, an exaggeratedly large ornate piece that his mother insisted be used for the ceremony. Above him, the sky is somehow a deeper shade of blue than it had been an hour before; there is not a single cloud in the sky and the sun is shining in all of its glory. He looks towards it for too long, spots of teal forming on his vision as he tears his eyes away and looks down at his hands.

He blinks quickly, almost enjoying the way the sunspots in his vision are turning red and purple every time his eyes close despite the way his eyes are tearing up and the itch on his palm isn’t fading.

“Shouldn’t look directly at it,” a voice says from in front of him, soft and a bit low.

Louis feels a swoop in his stomach for some reason, looking up to see who is talking to him. He hadn’t heard the next tribute be announced- had probably been handing the last one off to Paul as the whole process of the day was incredibly and dully hooked on ceremony and left very little time to go off-book. The only place where a deviation could be made to the evenly spaced announcing of a potential, meeting the said potential and then handing that potential off and wishing them a good day, would be if Louis were to make his bond.

He can’t well see the figure standing in front of him due to the spots still lingering in his vision. Though his own back is now to the sun, there seems to be a bright halo of light coming from the lad that spoke, and Louis can make out his silhouette as he blinks a few more times to try and clear his vision.

“Why’s that?” he asks after a brief moment, when he can just make out details of the boy’s face, though they’re a bit shadowed still.

“Wouldn’t do for the emperor to make himself blind. Don’t know how you’d lead us in war like that.”

Louis laughs, his stomach swooping again. He stands and takes a half-step closer to the boy, noting that he’s about Louis’ height if not just a bit taller. His vision is mostly clear, and he bites his bottom lip on a gasp as he feels another swoop in his belly, this one harsher are more insistent like a tug, as if his body is trying to get him closer to this lad.

“Hi,” he says, breathless. He knows he should say something else but he can’t really think of any more words, just has a thought repeating in his head. It’s along the lines of ‘who are you, are you it, are you the one, could you be the one’ again and again until Louis’ mum or Paul or _someone_ must understand what’s happening. Louis is vaguely aware of someone speaking near him but it isn’t directed to him and it isn’t the boy he’s staring at so he doesn’t pay it any mind.

Finally remembering words, he takes in a quick breath and exhales. “What is your name?”

His mum is still standing near him, speaking out to the crowd gathered but Louis can’t really hear her. He’s waiting for the boy’s answer as if he’s never going to hear another sound again. As the boy opens his mouth to reply, though, the answer hits Louis as if he’s known it all along.

“Zayn. M’name is Zayn.”

~*~

The ball is suddenly much less dull than Louis had thought it would be. He and Zayn had retreated indoors almost immediately, leaving Jay to finish making an announcement regarding the end of the welcoming ceremony. She had invited everyone in attendance to stay for the ball, to witness their emperor’s soul bonding with his mate or to make a match of their own, but Louis and Zayn had already been seated at the head table, leaning in to each other and speaking in low whispers.

Louis had taken Zayn’s hand to lead him to his seat on the dais and he still holds it now, their fingers linking together and tugging in turn, as if to remind themselves of the connection they are forming. They have hardly touched their plates, choosing instead to ask and answer as many questions about the other as they can think of. Louis learns Zayn has three sisters and he confides to Zayn that he is a bit scared of thunderstorms. He tells Zayn his favourite fruit is peaches but that shipping them in from a neighbouring nation is a bit expensive, even for an emperor. Zayn laughs loudly at that, his free hand coming up to brush against the jewels sewn into Louis’ shirt.

“Yes, well, I couldn’t afford to wear things like this if I ate all the peaches I wanted,” Louis laughs, ducking his head to hide the flush in his cheeks he feels forming as Zayn’s hand lingers, pressing against his chest.

“I’ve never had a peach before,” Zayn admits quietly. Louis looks up at him, coming to learn that everything Zayn says is relatively quiet. It makes him have to lean in closer to hear and sometimes he needs to watch his mouth to read his lips, but those are hardly negatives. “Maybe that could be your gift to me, for our wedding.”

Louis can feel his flush getting darker but he can’t look away, not when he’s desperate to see the way Zayn’s mouth forms the words ‘our wedding’ again. He wants to know every quirk of those lips, needs to hear those words again and again. He giggles at his own self-consciousness and lifts their still-joined hands to his mouth, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand.

“Wouldn’t be much of a wedding present, giving you something I like. We’ll have something for you that you like above all else, and I’ll just have to pick off a sapphire or two from this shirt to get my cart of peaches.”

Zayn laughs as well, leaning in as if he’s going to kiss Louis. Louis pauses for the briefest of moments before closing the gap between them and fitting their mouths together. It’s a sweet, close-mouthed kiss, as both of them are painfully aware of the crowd around them at their tables and before them on the dance floor. They know they have an audience, so Louis lets Zayn pull back far, far sooner than he’d like and he licks his own lips to chase the taste of Zayn’s mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn breathes, taking his hand back from Louis’ and pressing his fingers to his lips. “I know I shouldn’t have but I just- very much wanted to do that.”

“Don’t apologise, don’t ever apologise,” Louis hastens to assure him, scooting closer to the edge of his seat so he can get even nearer to Zayn. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for a bit now as well.”

When Zayn smiles, his whole face changes. He goes from being an almost alarmingly attractive man to being an overgrown lad with soft eyes in the space of a second, and somehow looks years younger. When Louis smiles, however, he tends to get wrinkles near his eyes that make him appear a decade older at least.

Louis leans in for another quick kiss, just a brief tease of his lips against Zayn’s as he brushes the tips of his fingers along Zayn’s sharp jaw. He pulls away and sits back in his seat so he won’t be tempted to steal any more kisses in front of their audience, but he lets his hand hang off the edge of his armrest and Zayn takes the hint and laces their fingers together again.

“So, what colours for our wedding?” Louis asks, enjoying the way Zayn’s lashes fan against his cheeks as he looks down and smiles, shaking his head. Louis bites down on his own grin, turning away before he tugs Zayn into his lap or does something equally scandalous. He looks over the guests, not as many as had shown up to the palace in the first place but enough to make it a lively evening.

Some guests seem to have already paired off, perhaps having met their soulmates from the ones with whom Louis had been unable to bond. He looks over at them all and feels himself relax. He won’t have to sit through another ceremony like the one this morning again and he won’t have to ever again know the bitter disappointment in himself that he feels when he can’t allow Eleanor to be with her mate.

He can see her now, as she had come to the party after the announcement was made that Louis had met his soulmate. She’s with Harry, standing on her tiptoes and saying something in his ear. They both pull back with a laugh and look up at Louis’ table, waving their hands discreetly when they realise they’ve captured his attention.

“Are those your spouses?” Zayn asks.

It isn’t that Louis had been somehow unaware of Zayn next to him- his very being is still reeling from the high of having found him- but he hadn’t realised Zayn had followed his line of sight. He looks over to him, curious to see how his future husband will react to the presence of those who may be considered rivals. Zayn doesn’t seem concerned, grabbing a goblet with his free hand and taking a small sip, eyes trained on Louis’ face and waiting amicably for a response.

“They are my spouses,” he concedes, although he needs to stipulate, “for now. I plan to release both of them from marriage once our bond is complete. Neither of them is very interested in being an emperor’s spouse and I need them to be with their own mates. I couldn’t keep their happiness away from them.”

“You’re a good man,” Zayn says, voice soft.

Louis squirms a bit in his seat, equally pleased with and embarrassed by the praise. He isn’t anything special, knows many emperors before him have done the same things for their non-bonded spouses. His own mother had thought herself soul-bonded before, but it was just the rush from being favored by his father. She had remained wed to him until his early death, leading Louis through his first years on the throne while she remarried and gave him his sisters. It wasn’t until the end of that marriage, however, that she had found her own soulmate in Dan.

From the precedent his mother has set, Louis has always known that it is possible to feel love and happiness with someone outside of a bond. He’s always been a bit selfish, however, and impatient for his soulmate. He looks over to Zayn again, committing to memory the lad’s profile and the thickness of his lashes.

Zayn catches him looking- though, in all fairness, Louis doesn’t try to hide the fact that he was doing just that- and he bites gently at his bottom lip around the near-constant grin he’s been wearing since they took their seats.

“I wasn’t even going to come here today,” Zayn laughs. “We live so far away and we had to get up so early. Mum had to, like, drag me out of bed.”

Louis’ gut sinks at that, imagining sitting through the entire line of people and seeing again and again the disappointment on people’s faces when they don’t make a connection with him. He looks away quickly, trying to shake the feeling that’s gripping him at the thought of not having Zayn with him, of having to wait for who knows how long until their paths cross again.

“Hey, no. No,” Zayn says, speaking quickly and a little bit loud. It’s enough to draw Jay’s attention, and Louis feels like he’s eleven again on the night before his marriage to Eleanor, crawling into her bed and cuddling into her side. He wants to call her over but knows he’s well past the age where his mummy can help him.

Instead, he lets Zayn’s gentle hands turn him back around and closes his eyes when Zayn presses a quick kiss to his lips. Zayn’s knelt on the floor in front of him, his hands on the back of Louis’ head to keep him angled towards him.

“I’m here,” Zayn says, leaning his forehead against Louis’. “I came and you can send my mom a dozen carts of those peaches you like or whatever you want to thank her for sending me on my way. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Louis says, sitting up a little straighter.

Zayn looks as if he’s going to stay on his knees so Louis pulls at his hands to get him to stand again. Looking up at him, Louis feels his breath catch in his throat. He stands as well, bringing his hands up to Zayn’s jaw and tilting his face for another kiss. He knows he’s pushing the line of what is socially acceptable, but there seems to be nothing that feels better than being close to Zayn.

“Marry me,” Zayn breathes out when they pull back.

Louis leans back to laugh, feeling calm again. “That’s my line,” he admonishes when he looks at Zayn again.

“What?” Zayn asks, fluttering his lashes in a display of over-exaggerated innocence. “Just because you’re emperor means you’re the one who does the asking?”

Louis slips his hand to Zayn’s waist, pinching him gently and using his other hand to knuckle under his chin. “You’re lucky you’re my soulmate, I’ve imprisoned men for giving me less lip.”

“No you haven’t,” Zayn says confidently, twisting out of Louis’ grip and settling into his own chair. Louis takes his seat as well, watching in a slight bit of shock as Zayn takes another sip from his cup with a perfectly composed air of importance.

“Who _are_ you?” Louis says, smiling so hard he can feel his cheeks hurting. “Just coming in here and bossing me around like you’re my-“

“Soulmate?” Zayn quips, tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

“I was going to say ‘my mum’ but, yes, I suppose that’s also true.” He turns away, smiling reassuringly at his mum’s concerned look.

He notices Harry stood uncertainly near the edge of the long head table, and he waves him over eagerly. “Do you want to meet my spouses?” he asks, turning back to Zayn briefly.

Unsurprised when Zayn nods, he drags him to his feet and meets Harry halfway. He’s about to introduce them when Harry pulls Zayn into a hug, wrapping his long limbs around Zayn’s back.

“It’s so good to meet you,” Harry says, earnest, once he pulls back.

“Um, yeah,” Zayn says, clearly caught off-guard. Louis would be lying if he says he doesn’t enjoy seeing Zayn’s calm composure crack just a bit.

“How have you been?” Harry asks, as if he’s known Zayn his entire life instead of just meeting him for the first time, one hand on Zayn’s arm and the other reaching for Louis’ hand to draw them all a bit closer.

“Haz,” Louis admonishes around a smirk. “Let’s not overwhelm the lad.”

Zayn rebounds quickly enough, however, grin back on his face as he looks up at Harry. “Couldn’t overwhelm me if you tried,” he says, words clearly meant for Louis. To Harry, he says, “I’m alright mate, how are you? Been taking care of this guy?”

“Been waiting for you,” Harry insists with a grin. Louis pouts, feeling ganged up on, and Eleanor chooses that moment to approach.

“El, they’re being awful,” he whines. She rolls her eyes and ignores him, holding out her hand to Zayn. “Everyone is ignoring me and this is awful.”

“I’m just trying to get to know your spouses before they move on to greener pastures,” Zayn says, shushing him.

Harry looks surprised, his teasing expression gone as he meets Louis’ eye. “What is he talking about?”

Zayn’s eyes get wide. “Did they not know?”

“Know what?” Harry demands, looking like he’s a second away from stomping his foot. Harry’s patience level is even lower than Louis’ so he steps in quickly, grabbing for Eleanor’s hand and pulling them in to focus on him.

“Lou,” Eleanor cautions, looking just as taken aback but a bit nervous. “You’re not seriously considering this?”

“I want you two to be happy, I need for you to be with your mates and not stuck with me. I’ll put you up in any house you want, you guys can live at court or have your own manor home when the divorce is final. I want you both here with me but your happiness is more important.”

Harry sniffles and Louis rolls his eyes. Of course his husband is crying, has been a weeper since they were betrothed as infants, though it wasn’t quite the same then of course. He braces himself for impact and, sure enough, Harry drags him into a bone crushingly tight hug. He wraps his hands around Harry’s back, palms flat on his shoulder blades.

A smaller body presses against his back, Eleanor’s hands wrapping around him and settling on his stomach. “You’re very, very kind,” she whispers into his neck and he sniffs once to keep himself from crying.

He has a feeling Zayn and Harry would both never let him hear the end of it.

~*~

Their wedding is delayed again and again until Louis finally gets the council to agree to his divorces almost a full year later. Eleanor is promptly off with her soulmate, kissing both Louis and Zayn on the cheek before shuffling into a coach and waving out the window at them. She’s never loved being at court and she’s planned an extensively long vacation with her soulmate until they’re ready to return.

Zayn hugs her a surprisingly long time, burying his face in her hair and making her promise that she _will_ return as soon as she’s up for it. When he pulls back he tucks himself into Louis’ side.

“I hate when people leave,” he mutters. Louis smiles at him softly, trying to keep his own emotions under control as one of his best friends rides away. He presses a kiss to the top of Zayn’s head, keeping an arm slung around his hips as he leads them back inside.

When the front entrance closes behind them, Louis is still looking at the bit of Zayn’s face he can see, trying to gauge how he is feeling. Zayn stopping short, making Louis stumble and almost fall, catches his attention instead.

“What was that for?” he hisses, bewildered.

Zayn isn’t paying him any mind, staring instead straight ahead. Louis follows his line of vision, jaw dropping when he sees what’s got Zayn speechless.

Harry- _his husband up until an hour ago_ , a small, laughing part of his brain reminds him- has a tall bloke pressed against a wall, mouths connected in a fierce kiss that looks very messy and slick from Louis’ vantage point.

“What do we do, what do we do?” he asks Zayn in a whisper, looking around frantically for an exit. He doesn’t know how the entrance doors closing didn’t startle them apart, but he doesn’t know if he should risk crossing the tiled floor to the library as his shoes are particularly loud on the current surface.

Zayn- _his soon-to-be husband_ , a different part of his brain supplies- is of absolutely no help. Louis’ considering revoking his ‘partner in crime’ title he’d jokingly bestowed upon his fiancé the day they pranked Niall by hiding a beetle inside of a hollowed-out apple. It had been hilarious watching the blonde boy trail after it for twenty minutes until the apple had fallen on its side and the insect had successfully worked itself out.

Watching Niall bring the apple to his mouth as if to eat it, however, had not been fun; he had thankfully stopped short of actually biting into it and had chucked it at their hiding spot off the great hall with a laugh.

Based on his current performance, however, Zayn is no longer the stoic man he’d been that day. Louis looks to him, incredulous to find his fiancé slumped over at the waist, one arm gripping his opposite hip as he bites the hand of the other arm to muffle his laughter.

“Zayn!” Louis hisses, causing him to laugh harder. He snorts loudly, trying to plug his nose at the last moment to keep the sound in but, ultimately, he is unsuccessful.

That is, of course, the noise that breaks Harry and his lad apart. Harry turns around on his heel quickly, looking at them with wide eyes and standing in front of the man as if he’s trying to hide the taller figure behind him.

Figuring there is no way to avoid the situation, Louis steps forward with his hand outstretched. “Hi,” he says brightly, trying to peek around Harry’s shoulders but he keeps blocking his view. He finally gets between Harry and the other man, irritated when he needs to tilt his head way back to look up. “I’m this one’s ex-husband and also, kind of, the ruler of this nation. What makes you worthy of Hazza’s time?”

“Lou, be nice,” Harry hisses, having fallen back to Zayn’s side.

“I am!” he insists, still staring at the new man’s face. It isn’t particularly unpleasant, Louis supposes. His hair is styled entirely too high and he’s a bit older, but he has kind eyes and he looks to Harry before he answers Louis, as if double-checking it’s okay to speak.

Louis likes that in a man, keeps a lot of stupid things from being said.

“I’m Nick,” he says, voice steady. “I’m his soulmate.”

“You are _no such thing_ ,” Louis says, scandalised. He looks over his shoulder, Harry’s blush confirming. “Hazza, why didn’t you tell me?” He hugs Nick, cursing the fact that he needs to get on his tiptoes to do so. He’s used to feeling short around Harry, he doesn’t really enjoy the fact that there’s another one now that will tower over him.

He bounds away before Nick can reciprocate the hug, jumping up so Harry has to bear his weight. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do this, but he’s determined to make this his very best hug ever. Harry doesn’t disappoint- never has before- and crosses his arms behind Louis’ back, keeping him close.

“Do they do this a lot?” Louis can hear Nick mutter to Zayn, who laughs.

“Yeah, but you get used to it. They were married before either of them could speak; closer than brothers, the two of them. Just wait till Eleanor comes back, the three of them can hold entire conversations with just the way they quirk their brows.”

“Zayn’s just jealous,” Louis says, muttering the words into Harry’s shoulder. He wiggles a little and Harry sets his feet back on the ground but they don’t stop hugging.

“I’m not jealous of anything,” Zayn says, his voice cocky. “I get you for the rest of my life, don’t I? Plenty of time to learn your quirks.”

“Not sure if that’s a prize,” Louis admits, finally turning his head and looking over at his fiancé. Zayn’s come to be his rock over the last year; the best part about Louis’ day is always the moment he gets to curl into Zayn’s chest on their bed and just let himself fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Zayn says confidently, Harry echoing him a moment later. Louis is eternally grateful that Zayn gets along with Harry and Eleanor, couldn’t have handled it if any of them hadn’t gotten on.

They’re finally getting married in a week and the preparations have been dizzying to keep track of, but he can always count on Zayn to be his sense of calm. He slips out of Harry’s hold and goes to Zayn, smiling at the automatic way he opens his arms for him. They fit together like puzzle pieces, Zayn’s hand on Louis’ waist and Louis’ head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Well, we’re just going to… go,” Harry tries, sidling up to Nick and trying to walk away. Louis just laughs.

“If you think you’re getting out of here without telling us every detail of this whole _situation_ ,” Louis starts, waving his hand in the air, “then you’ve got another think coming.”

Harry pouts, turning back around to face them. “Lou, c’mon.”

Not to be swayed by the pout, Louis crosses his arms and raises his brow. “Practically the entire kingdom saw me make my soul bond. I’m requiring you to spill all details. I’ll make it law.”

“You won’t make it law,” Harry says, dropping the pout and rolling his eyes.

“Try me,” Louis challenges.

Harry groans and grabs Nick’s hand, their fingers sliding together naturally as he starts leading them away. “Fine,” he says over his shoulder to Louis and Zayn, who are following behind. “But we’re getting Liam and Niall in for this, too. I’m not repeating this story ever again.”

~*~

Harry, as it turns out, was right to be reluctant to share.

“You did _what_?” Niall asks, laughing so hard he snorts a bit of his drink up his nose.

Harry’s bright red, sat next to Nick who’s wearing an overly fond expression on his face. Louis watches as Nick tugs at a lock of Harry’s hair gently, getting his attention. The subtle changes in Harry’s expression are immediate once their eyes meet: his smile grows soft and his blinking slows down, appearing to relax before Louis’ eyes.

They’re all sat on stools around a raised table in the palace’s courtyard, looking out over the expansive grounds. Harry turns back to the group and says, a little louder than before and more clearly, “I thought he was trying to break into the palace so I grabbed a piece of wood from the fireplace and brought it down on his head.”

Niall- who had been almost holding his breath while Harry spoke- erupts into shocked laughter again, holding his belly and rocking on his stool. Liam laughs as well, shooting Harry an apologetic look before the sounds his mate is making have him burying his face in his hands to muffle his own noises.

Louis and Zayn are both grinning wide, Zayn snorting a bit and shaking his head. He lifts his tankard in a toast. “To Harry and Nick: may you never again cause each other bodily harm.”

His quasi-serious toast is ruined by the giggles that finally overtake him, his voice breaking on the last words.

“Oh, you can all just piss right off,” Harry mutters, pushing his own goblet of water away from him.

“I think it’s interesting,” Louis says diplomatically, trying to spare Harry’s feelings. Harry smiles at him a bit self-consciously, curled into the arm Nick has thrown around his shoulder. They’re both teetering on their own stools and Louis knows that seeing them fall would be absolutely hilarious but he isn’t sure Harry’s already bruised ego would be able to stand it.

He stands and makes his way in between them, a hand resting on Harry’s waist. “It’s not a common meeting,” he relents, pressing further against Harry’s shirt when he feels the boy tense. “One might say that the way I met Zayn is uncommon as well.”

Niall has quieted, his eyes rimmed red from the tears he’d spilled from the force of his laughter. He’s smiling now, though, and nodding along as Louis speaks.

“We’re all very excited for you both,” Liam says from his seat.

“Hear, hear,” Niall agrees, raising his tankard above his head in a new toast. Zayn’s still smirking but he follows suit, and they clink glasses softly, Harry draining his water immediately. A servant pours a new glass almost as soon as he sets it on the table, and Louis and Harry both thank her right away.

He makes to move back to his own seat, having satisfied himself that Harry isn’t blushing quite as deeply as he had been earlier, but a sudden thought stops him. “What _were_ you doing in the palace, anyway?”

Nick laughs, taking another sip of his drink and clearing his throat once he’s swallowed. “I was actually late to a council meeting for the pending divorces. Me dad’s a member but he wasn’t feeling up for the journey so he sent me as his proxy. Met Harry that first day.”

“Seems unethical,” Zayn teases.

“Oh, no, I didn’t have a say in anything to do with the divorce. Your lawyers handled that one, we just had to be there for ceremony. But I got lost and ended up near the back entrance, couldn’t find my way.”

“Would that mean Harry is the light that guides you, the North Star directing you home?” Louis cackles, taking his seat next to Zayn again. A round of laughter goes through the others and Louis preens.

Smug turns to disgust quickly when Nick looks in Harry’s eyes, both of them wearing besotted expressions, and he says, simply, “Yeah, I guess it does mean that.”

They laugh harder at that as Louis mimes gagging, burying his face in Zayn’s neck and crying out that he can’t handle their sappiness. Zayn tilts his head a bit, chin brushing Louis’ forehead, and Louis stays still a few minutes longer than he had planned, breathing in the scent of the perfumed oils Zayn’s always rubbing into his skin.

Okay, so maybe he’s a bit sappy as well.

~*~

The surrounding cities are crowded with their wedding guests, and the palace itself is overrun. Ernie and Doris are old enough that they’re causing mayhem, toddling around and generally getting underfoot. Zayn takes to keeping them entertained while Jay and his mum meet with wedding planners regarding details and their fathers go over security concerns with Paul. It means that he’s never around Louis during the day and often too exhausted to talk much at the end of the night.

The day of their wedding dawns with clear blue skies above and a gentle breeze in the air. All of Louis’ jewels could not have purchased better weather. Louis is constantly going from person to person, addressing issues and making last minute decisions, but it’s worth every second of mayhem when he’s holding Zayn’s hands in front of the officiate, sealing their bond with what feels like half of his kingdom as witness.

They celebrate with a week-long festival, an excuse to drink deep and watch sport. Liam excels at all of the games, and emerges as the champion at the end of the week, the crowd cheering when Niall rushes up to him after Zayn bestows upon Liam the winner’s title.

Overall, it’s the most exhausting and thrilling period in Louis’ life and he doesn’t let go of Zayn’s hand for longer than absolutely necessary until the ending ceremony is complete and they’re finally, blessedly alone in their home.

Well, as alone as they’ll ever be in a palace, anyway.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi! I take requests but fill them very, very slowly. Fair warning (:


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